dream
It is far too hot a summer in Tokyo, children pant like dogs, half-real, half-animated. As the film progresses we realize that they are all silent, eyes wide, mouth agape with shock, they are looking at their dead strangled little siblings as the air ripples deliriously from the waves of heat. Black office buildings, black leather chairs. A child wakes up in the middle of the night, aware of the clock, then goes to sleep. It says "commence the nightmare." It is him wandering around these black rooms, the leather pulsating, the skin of his face warping around his head, a hallucinatory brown-orange, vibrant like plastic. They are finding the voice of the killer by using a new computer. It is a field of computer towers on desks, in an office room of no unusual character. They are all met with legless, wizened, near-skeletal and fetal biomechanical organisms, with too few or too many arms, alive and real, and controlled. They are all sealed in plexiglass cubes just large enough to contain them. Twitching, apparently processing. Oriented away from the computers so that the technicians can understand their movements.
